Happily Ever After
by Lara3334
Summary: Running away from the ball is never a good idea when Prince Charming's on his way.


Title: Happily Ever After

Rating: G

Feedback: Concrit adored - here or 

Lily Evans surveyed the crowd from her safe spot in the corner. Punks and ghouls, fabulous beasts and the occasional pop star milled around. They were dancing and eating and drinking the as yet unadulterated punch and all seemed to be having a wonderful time – all except the messy-haired, tall figure that Lily was watching out for. It wasn't that she was avoiding James Potter; she was a Gryffindor and Head Girl and her manners were far too good to avoid anyone. It was more that she wasn't quite ready to speak to him, not until she'd seen his costume and probably not until she'd had one or two glasses of the spiked punch that the attendance of he and his friends was bound to produce. Besides, as Head Girl, she wasn't hiding; she was chaperoning.

Lily had quite liked the idea of a costumed ball for the departing seventh years when it had been suggested. It was bound to be spectacular if it was anything like the feasts she'd enjoyed at Hogwarts, and Lily, daughter of a secretary and a plumber, doubted that she'd ever get the chance to go to anything like this again. She'd helped plan it and bought her costume – the green dress had caught her eye the minute she'd seen it, her mind's eye seeing the wide skirt and corseted bodice looking perfect in the Great Hall with the colour flattering her hair and eyes to perfection.

And then she'd thought of James Potter and her heart had sunk. It was just that he'd grown up so much in the last year and she'd enjoyed being Head Girl to his Head Boy and his eyes were such a nice warm hazel and when he smiled he looked so earnest … but she didn't like him, oh no. He didn't make her feel nervous at all and he definitely didn't send tingles down her spine when he flashed one of his trademark wicked grins at her. Lily certainly and absolutely did not imagine what his messy black hair would feel like to touch, to muss up even more. When he smiled, it didn't feel at all like he and Lily were the only people left on the earth, the only ones who mattered.

Lily groaned out loud at the thoughts that would not stop plaguing her. Okay, maybe she did fancy James Potter just the tiniest little bit, but he'd stopped chasing after her. He hadn't called her 'Hotlips' or ogled her breasts or stolen her underwear in almost eight months (and Lily would never have thought that she'd have been sorry about that). He obviously didn't fancy her anymore, or not enough to bother trying.

Lily turned around to face the wall, wondering how long it would take for her to knock herself out, or better yet, knock some sense into herself because fancying James Potter was clearly Not Right.

"Good morrow, fair maid."

Lily spun round to see a tall, armour-clad figure standing in front of her, visor down. The armour was clearly magical in origin, as she hadn't heard any clanking when he'd approached.

"Hello," she answered guardedly. With that height, it could be several people; Sirius Black or either Lestrange or even Macnair and she definitely wasn't committing herself to conversation with any of them.

"I see that thou art alone. Prithee, 'tis criminal for such a beautiful wench as thou to withhold her presence. Prithee,"

She recognised the voice now – James Potter. Lily swallowed hard before mustering the irritated tone that he should have been used to by now, "Why are you trying to talk like Shakespeare, Potter?"

Silence for a moment; had she offended him?

"Blast," came from behind the helmet as he removed it, tucking under one arm. His hair was sticking up even more than usual and his face was slightly flushed from being inside the helmet, not that Lily would notice something as small as that, "You knew it was me then?"

"I've known you for seven years, James, I can recognise your voice," Lily said, one eyebrow raised as she looked him right in the eye.

There was a pause.

"Oh right. That," he said finally, sounding disappointed.

"Look, Lils-" he said at the same time as Lily worked up the nerve to say, "James-"

"What?" she asked, the Gryffindor bravery she'd managed to muster slipping away.

"Lily, it's the last - I was just - seeing as we're – you, um…" she'd never known James Potter lost for words before.

"Do you want to dance?" he finally blurted out, looking very serious and very nervous and somewhat mesmerising, biting his bottom lip and running a hand through his hair.

Lily almost automatically shook her head, but they were leaving, she thought, and he'd changed and who cared if she'd told him 'Not in a million years' when they were fourteen?

"Yes," she said with a small smile, but his face fell as if he'd heard what he expected to hear rather than the actual sounds, then a jubilant grin spread across his features, breaking like waves on a shore.

"Yes!" he shouted, punching the air, "I mean, yes. Right. Dancing. Over here, shall we?" He held out a hand and Lily took it, the gesture seeming very old-fashioned and very formal and very fitting.

"I think this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship," she murmured as she put a hand on his waist and he frowned, "What?"

"Never mind," she smiled and lay her head on his shoulder, dimly registering that Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew were loitering near the refreshment table, no doubt with intent towards putting something illegal in the punch.

Lily danced with James all night. By midnight, her arms were wrapped comfortably around his waist. His armour was definitely magical; it was soft and warm and felt right against her skin.

As the clock in the Great Hall chimed softly, he asked, "You aren't going to run off now, are you?

Gryffindor to the end, Lily chose to answer by standing on tiptoe and kissing him softly, before stepping back and grinning up at his disbelieving face.

"Oh, good," he managed to answer as Lily returned to her place in his arms for the final dance.


End file.
